Mother's Day and Brain Cancer Awareness

Part 1 (If I don't laugh I will cry)
  
I saved her mind to a memory stick    
so I can reboot each time she gets sick.    
Her version control says don't ask me    
and she's started to sing in MP3.    
Each time she tries to remember a name    
she asks for a password and starts again.    
Old memories don't seem to play anymore    
because she's lost the driver for her MP4.    
Sometimes little thoughts keep coming back    
but it's usually just the audio track.    
I'm beginning to think her file is corrupt    
as most of her speech is foul and abrupt.    
The surgeon says he can't remove the tumor    
with a 20% chance of a weird sense of humor.    
Half of me wants to accept defeat,    
and the other half can't cope with Ctrl Alt Delete.  
   
   
Part 2 (The battle is over)  
   
Sunlight streams on pallor mortis,    
with a kiss, I quietly pass you my warmth    
and hold my hair as it falls    
damp on the grey of your cheek.    
   
The difficult calls are being made,    
he can only chew the words    
so I swallow them for him,    
hard as the red plastic phone.    
I sound like a mourner    
in this fake monotone drone.    
   
Curtains close and roast to ash    
hands held out to be took and shook,    
sympathetic smiles, wrinkles of the past.    
Your music reminds me of Saturday nights.    
   
Ham and piccalilli on buttered crusty bread,    
saggy settees and late night TV,    
those were the times you held me close    
and I needed your comfort the most.    
   
Foot falls wet on a mountain path,    
dust drops soft to cobwebbed grass,    
I look for a sign    
to find this spot again and I laugh    
before I cry, as I do every time.

As mourners stood around the grave
we felt her ever loving touch  
and each dampened handkerchief displayed  
bemused, by emptiness that hurts  
  
The brighter days before the grey  
the medics frowns, the reassuring lie    
a living being, seen to decay  
the nurses cheery smiles  
   
That big C that undermines so ruthlessly  
malevolence that feeds  
the consultants fail say "its no use"  
its growth we cannot now impede  
   
 Clouds on the horizon make you tremble  
 clapper raised to strike the bell  
 pain a suffering, a living hell  
white lilies stood, patient and dependable  
   
Just waiting, a tribute, pensive    
her name spelt out in white bouquet's    
the beauty that it had no limits  
the sickness toll, of disappearing yesterdays  
unopened cards, never to display  
   
                                    --------------------------------  
   
Repercussions    
Steady footholds now are disappeared  
the vacuum    
the living sepulchre of grief  
the hollow that is now your sanctum  
   
Those clouds they never part for long  
weak sun of hope    
each hold a hand, the off whispers forlorn  
the view behind, its seeds remote  
   
What was a vibrant note  
change from sharp to flat  
malignant, its tentacles to envelope    
from what we loved ,throw down its cap  
   
Ghosts that stalk's dark cavities  
 fading apparitions, ink that seeps    
the familiar and the evergreen  
erased, the editor as down the steps it creeps    
 words, kind mothers praise, that made us weep    
 

No woman can make a house into a home
Better than a mother’s love
It is the greatest love under the heavens
No matter how many times you fall
A mother is always there to pick you up
She cares and does her best
So that you can be who you were meant to be
When the world forsakes you
She still stands by your side
Pleading your innocence in whatever trials and tribulations
There is no warmer
Comforting serene love
Lingering with its scent
Even in her absence
Like the unconditional love of my mother
By missing it because her presence is not there to give it
Proves doubtlessly that its significance and impact
Leaves a mark that stays with you forever


The Imposing Invader

Unconvincing is its pretentious solitude
As it loudly screams in its mighty weight of endlessly enduring agony
Grinding down the body of its host
To points where the life can be nothing but mute silence
Existing in a space that becomes an intrusion
Voices daily droning continuously bringing cold comfort
Irritating busy buzzing with empty words from visiting buddies’ bodies
Powerless in their attempts of embracing empathically with sympathy
Someone too weak to appreciate others
When the distance caused by this predicament
May be foreign to those not in the clutches of the jaws of this ailment
Whispers roaring like drums
Everything causing an irritation to the ear
The slightest touch feeling like needles to the skin
Caught in the helplessness where loneliness is the closest companion
Only the sufferer clothed in this brittle body
While unwilling to wear this unwanted cloak
Knows what a burden the rolling whirling perpetuity of tiredness
Surrenders to a relentless onslaught
Death comes like a welcome liberator
Releasing the distress to leave the mind to its eternal serenity  
Committed to the earth as its mortal resting place